


Find me by your name.

by dragonism



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-14 09:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13004934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonism/pseuds/dragonism
Summary: In an AU were your soulmate’s name appears on your arm the day of your sixteenth birthday: Basil Pitch must conceal his soulmate’s identity, whilst Simon Snow works tirelessly to reveal his.All the while the two are closer than they think.





	1. A tingling sensation.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh lordy, my second multichapter fic... ever. And my second Carry On fic. I doubt it’ll be very long but let’s try it shall we?

**Simon**

I expected it to hurt. I think. I’m not entirely sure why, everybody else made it sound beautiful and exciting, so I _supposed_ they were all covering something up, covering up the fact that it hurt.

It didn’t hurt (in case you haven’t guessed).

No, it was kind of a tingling feeling. Like when you walk into a hot room from the freezing cold and your hands start to feel a little strange, but not _necessarily_ in a bad way.

It happens on the time you were born. Right down to the exact second.

Most people know that time, of course, they have people to tell them. Parents to throw them parties, or to leave behind notes. Penny’s mum was elated, wrote the time out in big bold text on her birthday cake: 8:34pm. We all crowded around, turned off the tv and the music, waited for the name to appear. It takes a few seconds, it appears like somebody is writing it. Letter by letter rather than all at once, some people say it’s your soulmate’s handwriting too.

Anyways, Penny screamed in excitement after the fourth letter, her wrist said Micah and she knew exactly who that was.

I didn’t get the pleasure.

Didn’t get to know when the word would appear, didn’t get to know who it might be.

The feeling started at 12:04pm. Started in the crook of my elbow. Trailed its way down through my veins to my wrist, pulsed a little when it got there- as though it was trying to warn me. I’ve never pulled my sleeve up faster, fighting with layers of fabric, waiting to see the first letters appear in turn. And they did, in neat joined script, spelling out when they were done ‘Tyrannus’.

_Tyrannus_. I’d never heard the name before. I thought I’d never met somebody by that name before.

I thought, at least.

**Baz**

It was a ball.

A _bloody_ ball. My father had planned it, made a deal out of inviting all of the Old Families. Tradition, I suppose, to see the Heir find his soulmate.

It’s always been exciting. Overly anticipated.

Always been correct until my father.

He got the time wrong, heard it from my mother as the evening, rather than the morning. And of course my mother wasn’t around to correct him. The invitations were sent, the plans were made, the table laid. All for everybody to arrive _hours_ after the name appeared.

Though, I should be thankful.

The feeling woke me up. A tingling, _burning_ feeling. Starting at my elbow and singeing its way down to my wrist. They said it wouldn’t hurt, I’d bet that to be the case for most. For people, _humans_.

For me, it was painful. And at 6:23am crying out in pain was far from an option. Again- another thing I should be thankful for.

Letter by letter my soulmates name was spelled (in frankly quite terrible handwriting, though what should it matter about their handwriting, _Baz_ ) and just as I suspected- there he was. I’d known quite well it would be his name that would end up there, I’d known that since we were twelve years old.

_Simon_. I pulled my wand from where it lay on my beside table. Pointed it at my wrist, uttered softly, **“That’s not my name.”**

A glamour spell, my own.

 


	2. A boy we both know.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon’s timeline. What is going to happen when he reveals his new mark to the Bunce’s?

June 21, 2013

**Simon**

I stretched out over the sofa, groaning in discomfort having lay down in a strange position for far too long. I can’t remember exactly when I fell asleep, but by the time I wake up, Penny is surrounded by twice the number of books she was when I last saw her.

I’m spending my birthday (which will _likely_ turn into the whole summer) with the Bunces. A wonderful idea Penny had when she saw how miserable I was about the idea of spending another year wandering around Watford. ‘ _Not to mention_ ’ She’d said, ‘ _This is the most important birthday of all.’_

I for one, don’t really care too much about soulmates. Is what I _would_ have said had you asked me yesterday evening.

Now, at 4pm the day after, I’m still buzzing (quite literally, magic has that affect) with the news. I’ve yet to reveal the name, Mrs Bunce wants me to keep it a secret until dinner. Reveal it the way all of the higher up families do. People like the Pitches.

“Simon, you’re awake!”

“Merlin, Penny! Yes I am, no need to shout!” I’m broken from my thoughts of introspection pretty quickly as Penny almost jumps to her feet, using a **Fixer Upper** spell to clear away the papers and books that surround her. “I still have no idea why you’re studying. It’s my birthday. You should be relaxing.”

“Education takes no holiday, Snow.” She rolls her eyes, and pulls at my sleeve until I’m standing, “C’mon, let’s go help my mum with the food.”

I let her drag me through to the kitchen, but as it turns out, her mother is pretty much finished when we arrive. Penny however still helps with plating, and I set the table. Smiling as Penny’s dad walks in and ruffles my hair, “Big day today, son.”

He calls me that sometimes. Son. Not in a way that suggests that I might be his son. Just in a sort of ‘Whats up, son’ kinda way. I still appreciate it.

“Eh, it’s not that big. It’s not like... end of the world big.”

“Simon! Not everything has to be about the end of the world!” It does. With me. I am the end of the world, and Penny knows that. And her family knows that. “This is a _good_ day!”

It’s her brother’s turn, Premal, to join the conversation, “I don’t know Pen, I might agree with Simon on this one.”

“That’s just because it’s been years and you haven’t found your soulmate yet!”

“He’s out there somewhere. Probably like... Alaska or something, with the Dragons. He’s probably cool like that.”

Premal’s soulmate had been revealed a few years prior. A guy named Oliver. It came as a bit of a shock to the family- to see their son would end up with a boy. But they didn’t reject it. If the universe said it was so, then so it was.

That, is the only reason I’m not nervous today. I don’t think I’m _gay_. Or I didn’t think I was gay. Until a guys name appeared on my wrist four hours prior to this exact moment.

Soon enough, everybody is sat at the table. And everybody is looking expectantly at me. This isn’t grand, so I don’t have any big reveal planned, I just simply pull down my sleeve and hold up my wrist, “There it is. I know it’s a guy, I can like... sense it. But that’s all I know.”

I couldn’t have anticipated the immediate drop in expression from the whole table. Penny’s mother even looking so much as worried. My own expression falls with them, and I let my hand drop back down to hover over my cutlery as I pull at my sleeve to cover my wrist again, fearing the absolute worst about my reveal. They don’t say much, I don’t think I expected them to, but this level of silence is deafening.

It’s only broken when Premal speaks up, leaning across the table to pat my shoulder as he quietly says, “Congrats, Simon. Good luck.”

“ _Good luck_?” I look to Penny for answers, and she merely shakes her head. A look of ‘ _we need to talk about this later_ ’ across her face as she turns to tuck into her food.

In fact the whole table is quietly eating. So I do the same. Lost in thought even when Penny’s father picks the conversation back up, and the family returns to chatting like the whole thing simply didn’t happen. And suddenly a small, minuscule part of me wishes it didn’t.

It’s a while later, when Penny and I are alone in the kitchen washing up, that she finally clears her throat and begins to speak again, “So, Tyrannus, huh.”

“Yeah. Weird name right? I have no idea who it could be.”

“ _No idea_? Are you kidding me?” Penny pauses her washing up, and thus stops my drying as she turns to me with a look of shock and maybe even disappointment.

“Well, no? We don’t know anybody called Tyrannus Penny.”

“What about your roommate, Simon?”

My brows furrow. And I’m genuinely confused as I speak softly, a little condescending as I continue in the naive bliss that I am in fact wrong, “No, my roommates name is Basil.”

“Tyrannus Basilton. You _dork_. It’s Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.”

“ _Shit_.”

And with that, my world comes crashing down around me. Baz can’t be my soulmate, he just can’t be. We’ve been sworn enemies for longer than I can remember. The guy tried to kill me... more than once.

When I snap out of my worried daze, Penny is trying to hand me a washed plate, and I take it from her as she begins to speak again, “I guess this is just the way it works. I think you nearly gave my parents a heart attack though. The soulmate of the Heir of Pitch, in our house? And he also happens to be the Mage’s Heir? Too much for them to handle right there.”

“Merlin’s beard, Penny, what am I gonna do?” I’m worried, slightly exhilarated, and self doubting all at once. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe the universe made a mistake.

Penny merely gives me a look of sympathy, and the rest of my stay is spent avoiding the subject completely.

We’re back in Watford that Monday. Until end of July, when Summer Break starts. And things are even worse there than they were at the Bunce’s house.

I’m finding I have to constantly conceal my wrist, because of _course_ I do- considering the very fact that my roommate also happens to be my soulmate. Penny actually comes up with some sort of spell to keep my sleeve from slipping, uses it every morning, and it wears off just in time for me to change at night.

At first, people were talking about my mark. Pondering whether it happened to be Agatha Wellbelove. Her and I had.. somewhat of a history to say the least, and I guess people thought a Wellbelove and the Mage’s Heir might just be the perfect match.

I didn’t say anything to prove them wrong. I didn’t say anything to prove them right. Just sort of let them wonder.

Let myself wonder.


	3. A ball.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz reveals his soulmate to the Old Families. Or reveals somebody, at least.

September 1, 2013

**Baz**

I was pulling on my suit jacket when she walked in, Fiona, she knew my father had gotten the timing wrong. I _should_ have known that she knew.

The spell I cast, the glamour, made it so that Simon’s name would be changed to that of a girl. To that of one that _wouldn’t_ disappoint my family. I made sure it was the name of somebody who didn’t attend Watford. So I suppose whomever ‘Lillian’ is must be long since made up.

Fiona made it look like she wasn’t there to ask about my arm, made it look like she was merely checking up on me on my ‘ _big day_ ’.

“It’s simply a name reveal, not a wedding. It isn’t that big.”

“Meh, you’re right. But at least try to act excited when your dad asks okay? Even if it’s not that much of a surprise,” She nodded down at my arm, I saw her do it in the mirror ( _yes_ , I can see myself in mirrors, vampires can do that) and so I pulled up my sleeve, pressed it into my elbow as she inspected the name, “Lillian. Sounds regal at least.”

“I thought as such myself. Father will be pleased. Keeping up the Old Family bloodline and all.” I rolled my eyes at that, and my aunt simply nodded. She’s as sick of the Old Family traditions as I am, I think. She doesn’t let on much, but there’s always a look in her eye.

“Well, I’ll let you finish getting dressed. Oh! And here.” She pulled something pink out of her pocket, it was attached to a gold chain, and I stood statue still as she placed it neatly around my neck, “Your mother wore it the day she found out about her soulmate. Rose Quartz.”

The necklace was nice, short, from the gold chain dangled a lone, small piece of rose quartz held onto the necklace by interwoven wire. I held it for a moment, before tucking it into the neck of my shirt. “Thank you.”

Fiona nodded, then turned to leave, smiling and shutting the door behind her as I did up the last button on my jacket. The guests would be arriving by now, the clock churning around to 5:30pm. I’m not to enter until 6:25pm, Father said, then I’ll sit beside him near the head of the table only at 6:30pm, after the name on my arm has been revealed.

I grab the outfit I’m suppose to change into after the meal. A tailcoat with red lining, and a mask to match. Red and black detailing covering it’s white surface.

(I should mention the ball is not just any ball, _oh no_ , grandiose is virtually a family name. This ball is a masquerade ball.)

Once everything is hung in place, put where it should be put, I finally straighten myself up and start to walk downstairs. Five more minutes to go until the hall doors will be opening and I’ll join the guests at the table.

I can hear my father inside, hear him introducing me, “My son, Basilton Grimm-Pitch.”

Everything is a little surreal as I walk into the room, it’s less of a meal and more of a board meeting. Everybody dressed fancily and all looking my way as I stride in. “Evening.”

I’m supposed to say more, but it’s all I can muster under the sets of eyes that all look towards me, then towards my arm. They’re not here for much more than to see what pretty woman the Heir of Pitch will have hanging off his arm in the next year. (It’s always like that, people always find their soulmates within a year at most.)

“Basilton, care to show the Families?”

“Oh! Right, yes, of course.” I take out my wand, roll up my sleeve a little and clear my throat as I point. The room falls silent and I utter the phrase, “ **Larger than life!** ”

Sure enough, the spell works, projecting the word from the end of my wand for all to see. I move the letters so they spread in front of me, and the whole table erupts into applause. As though I did much to put the name there (in actual fact I did), before whispers of who the now famed Lillian could be.

Nobody has heard of her, because of _course_ they haven’t- she doesn’t exist. My father will make excuses after a while, say she must live abroad, he won’t care to admit that I might have found a way to meddle with the system. Like the many other cheats and liars over the years. For now, he claps me on the back, smiling broad and proud as he gestures for me to take my seat.

I oblige, and he announces the meals commencement. Three courses. Too much talk. I _hate_ it.

Things like this drone on for far too long, and by the time it’s over and I’ve escaped to my room- today is no exception to that rule. It takes everything in me not to simply lock my door with a spell, or sneak out of my window. The ball is mere minutes away and I’m far from excited about it.

The change is easy, just a switch of jackets. And I decide to check my phone before I put on my mask. There’s a few birthday wishes, a few questions about my soulmate mark. Nothing extraordinary. “Sigh. This truly is the worst birthday.”

That’s a lie. There are hundreds of thousands of people out there suffering through worse birthdays than my own, but as I said, a flair for the overdramatic is virtually in my blood. I roll my eyes once more as I tie the ribbon of my mask behind me. My hair now pulled up into a loose bun atop my head.

The ballroom is even more grand than the dining hall. Dimly lit with extravagant chandeliers and candles along the tables. People float about the place in dresses and suits that are much too overpriced but fit like a glove. My father stands talking to a few people I don’t know by name, but have likely seen in a paper or portrait somewhere.

I wait.

Just stand. At the sideline of the floor. Doing nothing much and much of nothing. Honestly if I cared to I could slip away right now, nobody would notice. It’s very clearly they merely turn up to events like this to show off their wealth. Or their new house. Or new watch.

Fiona catches sight of me however, and before I can leave her hand is on my arm, “Happy Birthday, Basilton.”

“You know you can just call me Baz.”

She grins, pressing a loving kiss to my cheek, “Happy Birthday.. _Baz_. Sneaking off are we?”

“Attempting to.” I let out a soft groan of disapproval towards my surroundings, glancing a hand over Fiona’s on my arm, “I hate events like this.”

“As do I.” She gives a more sympathetic smile now, and glances hastily towards my father, “Go. Quickly whilst he isn’t paying attention. I’ll cover for you.”

“You will?” I look frantically over her expression, and she seems sincere, “Alistair Crowley, thank you. Again.”

Fiona merely nods, and I’m let go, half running towards the doors out of the hall and jogging up the sets of stairs in the mansion. When I get to my room, I waste no time pulling off the mask. Leaning back against the door for a moment to laugh in relief.

Curiously, I’m not hungry tonight. I don’t feel the need to hunt. Of course I made sure to have a somewhat large hunt the night before today, to add a little colour to my cheeks at the meal, but _this_ is certainly something new. I feel like I could dance about my room with the energy of a spaniel as I pull off my suit and instead pull on pyjamas.

Throwing myself back onto my bed however, I grab at my phone again, deciding it time to respond to my messages. Niall and Dev have sent jokey birthday messages to the group chat, before getting themselves into a debate about what girl I’ll be picking up for next year’s Watford dance. I type a quick message back merely saying ‘her’ name.

There’s a few messages from family, who I reply to individually with practically the same response each time.

And then there’s a couple of strange messages.

Snapchats, for one. Meaning they must be from people who spend their holidays, or weekends, with Normals. Or merely from people who have too much time on their hands.

I’m right. The first message is from Wellbelove, a selfie of her and one of her Normal friends wishing me a happy birthday, I slide the screen across and type a message back. A quick thank you and well wishes for the rest of the short break we have left.

There’s one from Bunce too, a picture of her and Snow in her kitchen. Sorry, three pictures, and a video of her pouring flour over Snow’s head. That one gets a small laugh out of me, though I wouldn’t admit it. They seem drunk- though I’m certain that’s not the case with Bunce’s parents. They’re probably just tired and messaged the wrong person. (Bunce is also the type to send her entire snapchat story to her friends list. It’s somewhat annoying.)

I cant help but notice Snow’s wrist however, when the last message comes through. A picture from him alone with his finger pressed into his cheek as he pulls as silly face, boasting in his caption about how he’s stolen Penny’s phone. The sentence ends with my name. He sent this to me and only me. His shirt has ridden up a little on his arm, and I can just make out the letters ‘Tyran’. Just my luck.

My Simon is definitely him. Because his Tyrannus is certainly me.

And we’re soulmates.

And I think I might die.


	4. A message or two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy’s timelines finally intersect, but what happens when they come face to face with the idea that they’re meant for eachother?

September 1, 2013.

**Simon**

I’m laughing, _covered_ in flour, and lounging out across the very same couch I’d fallen asleep on a few months ago as Penny shouts at me from the kitchen. I’ve managed to kidnap her phone as she tries desperately to salvage the ‘no _magic allowed_ ’ cupcakes we’re trying to make. And I’m currently scrolling through her snapchat to look for somebody to message.

Admittedly, we’re both a little drunk. I may have _accidentally_ picked out the wrong bottle at the store, and Penny’s mother didn’t seem to notice at all, or maybe simply didn’t care to notice, when she gave it to me from the shopping bags.

It’s not hard alcohol, it’s meant for cooking. So maybe she thought we were using it in the cakes? Either way. It’s safe to say both Penny and I are slightly tipsy, so thank goodness that we’re the only ones in her house this summer.

Her parents decided they wanted to go on holiday, somewhere nice, take the whole family with them. But Penny insisted she stay with me. And her dad gave in and let us stay in the house for the month they’d be gone travelling.

That’s what got me here, laughing about nothing in particular and shouting back at Penelope from across her house, “Pens! You accidentally sent your whole story to Baz, you _numpty_!”

“Well then at least he gets to see your butt covered in flour! Isn’t it his birthday today?”

“Merlin! It is!” That means he’ll know his soulmate by now. I ponder for a moment. Ponder how bad of an idea messaging him is. And do it anyways.

It’s just one snapchat at first, a stupid picture of me poking my cheek with my tongue out. Captioned ‘ _Stole Penny’s phone! I’d make a great supervillain, right Baz?_ ’ and before I can decide if that caption is bad, I hit send. Then take another pic, this time pulling my jumper up over my hand and putting on that weird cat ears filter, ‘ _Happy Purrrr-thday, Basil!’_

It takes him seconds to respond. He must be checking his phone. At first it’s a typed out reply to my first message, a simple: _‘No. No you wouldn’t Snow. Are you drunk?’_

I reply saying ‘ _Tipsy_.’ then wait for him to see the cat snap. He sees it right after he sees my typed reply. Types for a moment, and then seemingly decides against that when a notification pops up to say I have received a picture.

It’s him. In an oversized hoodie- a strange and all too rare (literally never seen before) sight- looking bored but smirking just slightly. Captioned: ‘ _Thanks, Snow. I see your puns are as terrible as your face_.’

I go to reply, to defend myself against the insult. But before I can, I get another picture.

It’s him again, but he has the back of his hand rested against his forehead, and I can see a messy bun... and his wrist. The caption of the picture says ‘ _Guess we’re both drunk. I hate parties_.’ but I can’t focus on it. Not when the top of his wrist says ‘Si’ in my handwriting.

I laugh off my nerves, watch as Penny strolls in and sits on a pile of pillows in the chair just off to the side of the couch. I take a quick selfie, ‘ _Wanna join Penny and me for a game of truths?’_ it’s a risk, but what can really go wrong... right?

“Penny, mind if I invite Basilisk to our game of truths?” I look over at her with what I’m entirely sure is a squished expression as I don’t bother to actually sit up, and she merely rolls her eyes with a laugh.

“You probably already invited him, so sure.” I give her a look in return, and a quick ‘ _hey_!’ at her good judgement of my character, before she speaks up again, “Since when were you two so cozy anyways?”

“Since I found out he was my soulmate and discovered that we’re both drunk.” Penny looks like she’s about to say something sarcastic again, something with better sense than anything I’d say, but she’s cut off by a loud ringing coming from her phone, and I immediately jump up, “Video call! From Baz!!”

Without thinking, I panic, and toss Penny the phone. Thank Merlin for her good catch, and apparently good technology skills. She plugs her phone into the Bunce’s smart TV and answers the call from there. Within seconds Baz’s face illuminates the screen, and I feel my cheeks heat up, “Crowley, Snow, you look like you were dragged through a hedge backwards.”

“Your looking pretty shabby yourself, Baz.”

Penny rolls her eyes, knowing quite well that she’s off screen, before nudging my shoulder so that she can join me sat on the couch, “Can you two go _one_ day without insulting each other?”

“Hey, I wouldn’t have to insult him if he wasn’t always plotting to kill me.”

“You know Snow, it might surprise you to learn that I’m not constantly thinking up ways to have you murdered.”

I shoot a glare at the screen, but upon seeing Baz’s expression, he actually looks... _sincere_? Could it be true that he doesn’t want to murder me? I guess one day I might find out. And with that thought, I absentmindedly scratch my wrist.

“Anyway, bar insulting Snow and refraining from insulting you, Bunce. What is this ‘truths’ game? Isn’t it supposed to be Truth or Dare?” Baz moves a little on his bed, and whatever he is using as a camera moves with him, flashing a little of his knee. Were those trackie bottoms?

“It’s a game Simon and I play for fun when we don’t have the energy to play dares. Same fundamentals as truth or dare, just there’s no option but truth.” Penny shrugs, “It works better with two people since you just ask questions back and forth. I guess we could... spin a bottle to see who gets to ask the question, and who has to answer?”

“That would work.” I butt in, grabbing an empty Pepsi bottle from beside me, “Whoever the lid points to asks the question, whoever the bottom points to gets asked the question?”

“Sounds like a plan!”

The questions start off innocent. And I mean seriously innocent. Anything from ‘ _What’s you favourite colour, Baz?_ ’ (“Blue.”) to the typical first year at high school question of ‘ _Do you have a crush?’_ (“Yes, Snow, we all have soulmates.” “That doesn’t technically answer the question” “Shut it, Bunce.”)

By the time the question ends up going to somebody who isn’t Baz, we’ve all outright run out of questions. Okay, that’s a lie, I have a million and one things I’d like to ask. And I’m sure Baz and Penny do too. We’re all just too awkward to ask them.

That is until Penny gets up from where she’d been sat with her legs over my lap, and stretches, “Okay okay. As fun as it is to finally see you two somewhat getting along, alcohol has me wiped. I’m so tired I could sleep the week away.”

“Are you trying to say you’re going to bed, Pen?”

“Yeah. Yes. That. I’m heading to bed, have fun with your _soulmate_ Simon.”

She yawns, leaves the room. She doesn’t realise what she said, but I do. Baz does. My eyes wont leave the door.

“Snow, truth?”

Baz speaks up first, and it catches my attention. His voice isn’t as put on and teasing as it was earlier. He isn’t acting as much like a Pitch. He’s acting more like a Baz. I turn back to the screen, finally, and nod. I’m sure he can see my adams apple move as I swallow- his eyes seem to follow it.

“What’s the name of your soulmate?”

It’s his turn to swallow. His eyes feel like they’re piercing my chest. I feel a blush creep up my neck and into my cheeks, “Tyrannus.”

He gives a nod. A knowing nod. Which is why I ask too. “What’s the name of your soulmate?”

“You didn’t ask me truth first.”

“Didn’t need to.” I look at him as we sit in silence for a moment. Wonder what might be going through his mind. We both know it has to be me. We both know I saw that picture.

Which only makes what he says hurt even more.

“Her name is Lillian.” I’m stunned to silence. He can tell. “Anyway, Snow. I should go to bed. Watford in three days and all, we both need sleep. I’m not dealing with your useless grumpy nature when you’re overtired. Night.”

There’s a beep. The TV screen fades back to black. I sit for a moment. I don’t notice that I’m crying until a tear hits my hand.

I don’t know why I’m crying.

Baz and I hate each other, why did I even for a second think that might change? Why did I want it to change? I lay down with no intention of getting back up. It takes me a moment, but I fall asleep on the couch again. It’s uncomfortable, and stiff, and not long enough to fit my entire body unless I’m in the foetal position, but I make it work somehow.

By the time I wake up, everything from the night before has been cleared away. Penny is in the kitchen clearing up the last few cups, and apparently trying to spell away her headache.

“That’s not gonna work, and you know it.”

“Yeah, well- MERLINS BEARD!” She virtually shouts. Sorry, wrong, she does shout. Far too loud for either of our headaches. “Simon, you’re a mess. No insult intended. What happened?”

“Y’know, the usual. Underage drinking, sleeping on a sofa, finding out that your soul mate for some reason refuses to reciprocate your feelings.”

“Wait, what? Baz?”

“No Penny, _the Snow King_. Yes, Baz!”

“You know what I meant, Simon.” I do, she huffs. Setting down the glass she was holding, she walks a few steps closer to where I’m stood and leans her elbows onto the kitchen counter, “What in the world happened after I went upstairs?”

“Not much. He... asked me another truth.”

My expression must give it away, or Penny must just know me way too well, because she immediately guesses, “He asked who your soulmate was.”

“I gave him the name. I gave him the right name.” I sigh, lean against the counter and press my forehead into my hands, “I asked him who his soulmate was.”

“Well isn’t that obvious? It has to be you. Soulmates can’t work one way.”

I don’t say anything, I just look up. Offer up a pleading expression that speaks more volumes than words ever could.

“He lied?” Penny almost gasps when she realises. I still don’t speak. Merely groan and drop my head back into my hands. “Why would he lie? When it’s just you two there? Was somebody with him?”

“I don’t know, Penny, I don’t know and I hate it. I hate him.”

“But you don’t.”

“But I don’t.”


	5. A kiss to seal a lie.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz and Simon meet in person for the first time since that ever since loathed call. Simon is preparing for the worst. Baz is preparing for something else.

September 2, 2013

**Baz**

I don’t know _why_ I lied to him. I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to. He was there, and he was beautiful, and I panicked.

I knew I shouldn’t have accepted that bloody invitation, but I was _pissed_. As in drunk. As in my aunt, Fiona, had hidden a bottle of red wine in my room before she went down to the ball knowing all too well I’d want it after dealing with the Old Families.

I drank half the bottle before I called Simon and Penelope. I sobbed over the other half after I ended the call.

Seeing Simon Snow that night was a blessing and a curse.

A blessing, because seeing him flustered and flushed and happily smiling was all I’d ever wanted since we were twelve years old. Even if that didn’t show. And he got so close to the camera at one point I thought I might be able to count his freckles one by one. And I loved it. I loved him.

A curse, because I love him. I’ve known that for too long. I’ve known that loving him is bad for far too long. My family can only rarely accept my status as a vampire, if they were to know I was queer too? My father might drop dead on the spot. And just any man would be bad enough. That man being the Mage’s Heir? Social suicide.

And the worst part? I’d be willing to go under. I’d be willing to take that fall. _I’d be willing to sacrifice everything for Simon Snow._

We’re soulmates. That much is clear.

Watford starts again in two days. I’m dreading it. I already packed everything, I already have my new uniform laid out and ready. I’ve avoided thinking about Snow as much as possible.

Which turns out to be impossible by the time the day arrives that I’m suppose to go back to our shared room.

**Simon**

I run into him at our door.

**Baz**

I thought he’d already arrived.

**Simon**

He looked like he was thinking hard about something. His hand was just there, hovering over the door handle. He looked like he might leave.

I spoke softly, “Baz?”

**Baz**

I couldn’t let him know. I couldn’t let down my guard; not now, not ever.

I put on the typical stone face I always wear around Watford, suck in a breath to straighten my back, and don’t even bother to turn to him as I reply, “Snow.”

I feel him move closer behind me. The _idiot_ , what is he doing, he knows he shouldn’t be so close. Even without this whole soulmates predicament. His arm reaches over my shoulder, closes around the handle that I’d left behind when I balled my hand at my side. He pushes the door open and his chest is against my shoulders.

It takes everything in me not to kill him. Or kiss him. Or _both_.

“You going inside, Baz?”

I snap out of my trance. “What? Oh. Yes. I am.”

**Simon**

I watch him hurry inside. Pause at the door for a second myself, and then follow him.

He’s acting strange, but I suppose I am too. How could we act like we used to after everything that happened? It’s only been two days. My wrist gathers that tingling feeling again anytime I’m close to him, I suspect his does the same.

I turn to close the door behind me. Turn back. And suddenly there’s cold fingers around my collar and my back is pressed against the hard wood.

He hovers, for a moment, like he’s running through a mental debate. His eyes flicker over my expression, I guess I look shocked, but then I guess I am shocked so that would make sense. I can count the seconds in my head.

_Two_ seconds and his eyes scan my face.

_Three_ seconds and they’ve rested on my lips.

_Five_ seconds and he loosens and retightens his grip on my collar.

_Six._

_Seven._

_Eight._

_Mine._ His lips are on mine. And they’re cold, but so damn soft. And my brain is telling me to push him off me, but there’s a hot tingling feeling growing in my wrist that makes my eyes shut and makes my own jaw move and... shit, I love this too much to let go of it.

His grip becomes gentler as I return his kiss. My own hands find his hips.

We stay like that for a moment. And then he pulls back. Not just a little. Not the cliché forehead rest pull back. Not to look at me. No, I barely catch his expression as he pulls away from me, pulls out of my grip and turns around, pushing a hand through his hair like he’s stressed.

And that’s when I brace myself. For the worst, I think. For the moment he lies again, or tells me that none of this meant anything. For the words that would break whatever bond the universe decided to give us.

“Tell me this is the right choice.”

“W-what?” I stutter over the words, more than taken aback by the question. No, not question rather more of a statement. He turns to me now, and I see his face for the first time. It’s more expressive than I’ve ever seen and looks almost.... _pleading_?

“Tell me this- us- is right. Tell me I’m making the right decision.”

“Well the universe says-“

“Screw the damn universe, Snow, I want to know what _YOU_ say!” He lets out a breath, an exasperated one to say the least, and shakes his head, walking closer to me again.

“Yes.” It’s the truth.

“Yes?”

“ _Yes_. This is the right decision. Soulmates or otherwise, Baz, I think... I think this is everything I’ve ever wanted.” Again, the truth.

“You’re an idiot.” He huffs. But his lips are tugging at their corners, and I realise quickly that the huff is the beginnings of a laugh he’s trying desperately not to let out, “Snow, you’re an idiot. I’ve wanted this for longer than you could possibly know.”

“Hey! So are you. Who in Merlin’s name even is Lillian?” I’m smiling too. I can’t help it, he’s there- well, here- and I’m smiling.

“Nobody. Utterly fictional. Made up to get my parents off my back.” He sighs, in relief I think. And falls down onto the bed (my bed- it’s closer). “Who knew simple glamour spells didn’t work over snapchat?”

“I’m pretty sure absolutely nobody, because who in the World of Mages actually uses snapchat?” I laugh, and he finally laughs, covering his face with his hands and chuckling into his palms.

“Crowley, you’re right.” Baz looks so vulnerable like this, stretched out and laughing until his stomach hurts, I’ve never seen him so genuinely elated.

I think about the glamour for a moment, “So, it says Lillian in person?”

“Yeah. Right there were your name should be. Technically your name is there, just covered.”

“Well then keeping this a secret is gonna be easy, right?” I raise an eyebrow, walk towards the bed. I don’t think, just nudge him, and he mustn’t be thinking either because he moves immediately. And suddenly we’re lay together.

“You really want this. Me?” He’s fiddling with the sheet between us, and rolls his head to one side to look at me. I look back at him.

“I really do.” I let my hand fall near our hips, let my fingers lace through his. Feel him squeeze just gently. “We’re soulmates. Of course I do.”

He hums, like he’s thinking for a minute, looks back up at the ceiling and speaks with furrowed brows, “I hate you.”

I’m still smiling. “But you don’t.”

“But I don’t.”


	6. A moment in time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Start your New Year off right, start it gay.

September 4, 2013

**Baz**

I don’t know what made me kiss him. I suppose I just couldn’t bare it anymore. And when he kissed me back it was like the world around us didn’t exist. Like I was floating amongst stars and _he_ was the brightest of them all.

At some point, he rolled over where he lay beside me, and found a place for his head in the crook of my neck. It was rather cute, actually, to have Simon Snow curl up next to me. I would have blushed had I had the means, instead I pulled my arm out from under him and wrapped it around his shoulders, “Comfortable Snow?”

“Mhmm.” The hum was my only response, his fingers curling into the fabric over my chest as he breathed softly.

It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep, it didn’t take long for me to notice. I simply pressed a kiss to his temple and lay back, eyes fixated on the ceiling. That was the moment I truly _realised_ what was happening: me, on Simon’s bed, him lying with me.

And _bloody_ hell, I’m in love with him.


End file.
